


If You Run, I Will Catch You

by oceans_and_lovers



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: And so is Gaby she just doesn't know it yet, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Gaby, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring Illya, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Illya is totally in love, Italian Mafia, Mission Fic, Mostly Pining Illya, Napoleon Solo Ships Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller, Only a splash of angst, Pining, Protective Illya, She's a bit injured but still totally awesome, Some Jealous Illya too, Undercover as a Couple, chase scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceans_and_lovers/pseuds/oceans_and_lovers
Summary: “I can chase him down and you can protect Solo.”“If you run, I will catch you.”-After weeks of sick leave, Gaby rejoins her boys in Italy to go undercover with Illya as an engaged couple. Their mission is to uncover evidence to link a dangerous businessman with a local crime family without raising suspision. But then, in the middle of the mission and the centre of the party, Gaby and Illya end up disagreeing...Gaby is a badass, and Illya just wants her to be safe and sound.





	If You Run, I Will Catch You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Festiveviolet31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Festiveviolet31/gifts).



> This is my best attempt to fill the request for a chase scene between Illya and Gaby. I also included elements of the request for Illya being distracted by Gaby, because when is he not! 
> 
> When I was writing this, it took on a life of its own and so grew to include more than just what was in the requests, as I felt I had to set up the chase scene quite a lot, and then I couldn't just stop it immediately afterwards. I hope that's okay, and I did my best!
> 
> Also, credit to the author who wrote the line "If you run, I will catch you." Whoever you are, good job, it's a great piece of dialogue!
> 
> \+ Terrible translations at the end.

“Alright there, Peril? You seem to be scowling more than usual.”

Illya clenched his jaw and lifted his gaze from Gaby’s slight limp to Solo’s half-grin.

“S’nothing,” he said, eyes once more flickering to Gaby as the two of them trailed behind her and Waverly into a chic Italian hotel room. Solo raised an eyebrow at him and clasped his shoulder, an action Illya grudgingly permitted.

As Waverly went to close the blinds and Solo headed to the drinks cabinet, Illya sat down upon the sofa, leaving several inches between him and Gaby. His fists were balled at his side and he sat stiff and straight, but his eyes still betrayed him, wandering to assess and glare at Gaby's leg.

 

He blamed himself.

It was like a stone in his stomach, a band around his lungs, heavy and crushing whenever he saw her limp or wince.

She'd been brave, his chop shop girl, fighting hard despite her small stature.

But he'd been too slow. He hadn’t run fast enough. The enemy agent’s knife had slashed down her thigh, leaving her bleeding on the floor.

She could have been shot. It could have been worse.

But seeing her bleeding on the ground… it still made him see red, his fingers biting into his palm.

 

“Illya, stop it.”

Gaby’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze building around him, and Illya unfurled his fingers and forced himself to breathe evenly, the red mist fading from his vision.

“It's done, and my leg has healed - ”

“Not as much as I would have liked,” Waverly interrupted, sitting across from them, “I wanted you benched for longer than four weeks.”

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle. I'm surprised the boys lasted so long without me,” Gaby said, steel lacing her words, and she took a gulp of the whiskey Solo had just placed in her hand. Illya watched her swallow, drinking in the sight of it after weeks without her.

“It's unlikely the mission could be successfully accomplished without a female agent, and you have been pestering me incessantly to get back in the field,” - Waverly reached into his briefcase and produced several files - “Andre Lucas is your prime focus - he has suspected links to the Caruso crime family, and the extent and details of these links is what you need to establish before a full-blown investigation can be launched.”

Illya remained rigid as Waverly outlined the objectives for their mission and their roles, his mind pulled between it and Gaby as he caught glimpses of her from the corner of his eye.

 

Solo was to search the upstairs of Lucas’ mansion as his 50th birthday party took place downstairs, breaking into any safes or vaults he uncovered, searching for solid evidence linking him to the mafia and information on any deals taking place.

Illya and Gaby were to seek out information at the party, interrogating Lucas and his associates without raising suspicion.

 

“Gaby, it was thought necessary to bring you in so you can… charm Lucas into revealing information pertaining to his business transactions of the unsavoury kind,” Waverly continued, as Solo and Gaby both drained their third glasses of alcohol, “Kuryakin will pose as your finance so he can remain close and ensure you do not injure yourself further.”

Illya’s pulse jumped and his gaze moved to the engagement ring still on Gaby's finger, but he soon frowned and said, “She is engaged, yet still must flirt with that man?” 

It was Solo who replied, saying, “He must like a challenge. Jealous, Peril?”

“I do not need wrapping in cotton wool, Waverly.”

The men turned to face Gaby as she straightened her spine - “I’m not a china doll, I’m not going to break without a babysitter.”

“I would still protect you,” Illya murmured and Gaby’s eyes softened for a moment, whilst Waverley said, “You going on this mission depends upon your safety and Kuryakin can attempt to ensure that much better when he can remain nearby. And Solo too is correct - Lucas has a reputation for wooing women unavailable to him.”

Gaby nodded, as did Illya, and Waverly rose, heading to the door before saying, “Your mission commences at 1900 hours tomorrow and you have until 0100 hours to brief me on your findings so we can prevent any deals moving forwards. Keep in mind Lucas' reputation for ruthlessness - don’t be reckless or stupid.”

And with that, he left the hotel room, and Illya closed his eyes for a moment before excusing himself as Gaby asked Solo for a final drink.

 

“This dress is ridiculous,” Illya heard Gaby mumble, and Illya couldn’t stop his eyes from moving down her outfit once more as arm in arm they made their way into Lucas’ extravagant mansion, the party already in full swing. 

“Need to distract Lucas,” Illya said, surveying the room and nodding to Solo, who disappeared into the crowd of guests.

Together, they moved through the party, and Illya noticed, when his eyes once more rested upon the woman at his side, that a lock of Gaby's hair had escaped from her bun, and was curling close to her ear.

Reaching out would not help the mission, and neither would tucking it behind her ear...

Illya patted her arm instead and handed her a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

In his opinion, the dress was indeed ridiculous - Gaby did not need such a dress to complete the mission, but Solo had been adamant in his fashion choice. 

He’d grinned smugly at Illya when Gaby had stalked into their hotel room pulling at the tight fabric, and Illya had coughed when his mouth had definitely not gone dry. He'd definitely not had to do so again when she'd loosened her hair and stood upon the coffee table, hands upon her hips.

“Going soft, Peril?” Solo had said under his breath, and Illya had stoically ignored him.

But he couldn't ignore Gaby now, couldn’t take his eyes off her - not when he had to keep her safe.

 

Confidently, Illya steered them through the mansion at a leisurely pace so as to blend in, taking as much Gaby’s weight as she would allow him to, and mingling with the other guests.

Thus far, they'd revealed nothing that would be useful to U.N.C.L.E.

After talking with different guests for over an hour, Gaby abruptly turned in Illya’s arms and pulled him down as if to kiss him and hissed, “Lucas, two o’clock. We need to get nearer.”

So close to her, Illya could smell her flowery perfume and beneath it, gasoline and oil, ever present upon her skin, and her fingers wound themselves in his hair, both of them unintentionally still for a moment.

 

“You are such a sweet couple!” cooed a nearby guest loudly, and with heat rising in his cheeks, Illya pulled back as Gaby smiled at the obnoxious woman.

“Thank you, he only proposed last week,” Gaby said sweetly, holding out her engagement ring to the woman who was dripping with diamonds and smiling at them both.

“Oh well that's just gorgeous, what excellent taste you have sir!” 

The mindless chatter continued and although Gaby attempted to shift it toward Lucas and his business, it was clearly pointless, Illya thought with a sigh. 

Hopefully Cowboy would do his job this time.

 

Minutes passed and Gaby excused them, wincing as Illya pulled her swiftly onto the dance floor. It was a tactical maneuver to avoid further fruitless conversations, and the reason he pulled her closer was to better support her weight, so her leg wasn’t strained unnecessarily.

Illya lifted Gaby almost off of her feet and moved slowly round the room, again noting the guards and possible exits routes, as well as the occasional stares being directed at Gaby as they danced.

“We need to get to Lucas.”

“If he suspects anything, we’ll be shot. Five armed guards flanking him, all exits covered.”

Illya looked down and saw Gaby’s jaw tighten and she gripped his hand and pulled, forcing him to follow.

 

“Darling, would you get me some water?”

He remained still, standing awkwardly beside Gaby as she settled into a chair only ten feet from Lucas. The man glanced at them with a raised eyebrow, but looked again with widening eyes at Gaby and her revealing dress.

“Darling.”

And all Illya could do was to leave as her voice hardened, heart clenching as that bastard slinked over to where Gaby lounged.

Cowboy had better hurry up.

 

As he crossed the room with a glass of water in his shaking hand, the urge to throttle Lucas burned his fingertips when he saw him touch Gaby’s exposed knee. So close to her scar.

His finger tapped against his leg, and he muttered “Ublyudok”.

But Gaby though, Gaby didn’t flinch. She demurely batted her eyelashes and gestured to the party, and Illya swallowed heavily, vision clouding red as Lucas leaned closer.

“Here,” was all he said, putting the glass down, before he withdrew from the room, seeking out a bathroom before he smashed Lucas’ head through the table.

 

And still, thirty seven minutes later, Gaby and Lucas conversed. Leaning against the wall, Illya ground his teeth, again counting the threats in the room and their proximity to his chop shop girl.

Then Lucas stood, towering over Gaby and blocking her from Illya’s view, and he was moving across the room before he’d even blinked, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

“Have a beautiful evening, Cara, buonanotte,” Lucas was saying and he reached out to tuck the curl behind Gaby’s ear, and the roar grew in Illya’s ears until he was by her side and pulling her close. Out of Lucas’ reach.

“Mr Antonia, I hope you are having a pleasant evening. I was just speaking to your finance, what a prize!”

“Thank you. Come Cara,” Illya gritted out, dully aware of the bite of Gaby’s nails in his wrist and her sharp smile as she allowed Lucas to kiss her hand before Illya pulled her onto the dance floor.

 

“Calm down,” Gaby said, “Illya. Calm. Listen, Lucas boasted, but nothing solid. One of his men spoke to him though, and a deal is likely going through soon.”

“Sure?”

“Do you doubt me?”

Her reply made Illya’s throat constrict and rather than meeting her fiery eyes, he searched the guests for Solo - “Cowboy too slow. Especially if a deal happening soon.”

Still they danced and Illya swept Gaby along, far away from Lucas, until she jerked in his arms and nodded towards a man circling the room, armed and glowering.

“That’s a Caruso. He was in one of the files.”

Illya began moving them towards the thug, still under the pretense of dancing, and saw the man speak to Lucas, shake his hand and pocket a piece of paper, before starting to leave.

“Let’s go.”

Gaby shifted, but Illya froze, encasing her in his arms and preventing her from moving - “Can’t follow. Would tip them off and Cowboy needs more time.”

“A deal is going through - this is evidence.”

“No.”

Her eyes blazed at his words, and she spat, “I - we need to do this.”

“Your leg is injured and we cannot risk it.”

“My leg is my concern. I can chase him down and you can protect Solo.”

She struggled in his arms, drawing the attention of a few of the nearby guests.

“If you run, I will catch you.”

“We need to finish the job, Kuryakin,” was her reply, and she placed her hands upon his chest and pushed him back, but his eyes were not on her that moment as Solo had appeared at the edge of the room, shaking his head, and Gaby darted away, leaving his arms empty.

 

“Ga - Cara,” Illya said, but she was just out of reach and he was stepping forwards when a woman blocked his way - “Lovers quarrel? Give her time and space, young man.”

“Excuse. Me,” he said, and she let him go at the venom in his voice, and he ran after Gaby, slamming the door open and rushing into the garden. 

 

The night was warm and pressed in upon him, but all Illya registered was the thunder in his ears and his clenched fists as he chased Gaby, following the sound of her feet upon the gravel.

There were drunken guests in the garden and some crowded the path, but he shoved past them, as Gaby still sprinted ahead of him after the thug.

Her head turned at the sounds of the guests swearing and, catching sight of him, only ran faster and turned the corner, and Illya was so close, his strides longer than hers, his breathing heavy.

She must be in pain - the thought was loud in his brain as he round the corner too and continued pursuing her and the thug - she can’t fight if she’s in pain, he said he'd protect her…

 

He ran faster, and swore under his breath when he saw Gaby tackle the man to the ground.

The man’s gun was drawn and he was yelling, and Illya’s heart was in his throat as Gaby knocked the gun away and punched the thug, ripping off her broken shoe and beating him with it, once, twice. 

Illya stumbled to a halt and picked the gun up from the ground, kneeling to hold it to his head as Gaby rifled through his pockets and yanked out the note.

“Affare… domani…” Gaby bit her lip as she stood up and read it in the moonlight, and Illya swung the gun to knock the man out cold.

“Evidence,” Gaby said, but Illya didn’t care, couldn’t care, when he saw her wince as she stepped away from the thug’s prone body.

“I said no, and now you’re hurt.”

His voice was harsh even to his own ears, and Gaby flinched before pulling her shoulders back and matching him in tone - “But now we have the evidence Waverly wanted.”

They stared at one another, and it was Illya who broke first, reaching forwards to smooth down her now unruly hair. His fingers lingered upon her cheek, and he almost leaned forwards, was close to, but instead coughed and said, “Should get back to Cowboy.”

And he slung the thug over his shoulder and followed Gaby out of the garden, holding her ruined heels as she held the gun.

 

-

 

Illya’s eyes flashed when the words left her mouth, and when he glanced away, Gaby pushed off from his chest and started running, dodging the other guests and gritting her teeth as pain sparked in her leg. 

Pushing the door open, she could hear some commotion behind her but didn’t look back, forcing herself to sprint down the steps, following the man into the garden, as he'd started running after she'd pushed Illya away.

After being put out of action for weeks on end, Gaby could tell she wasn’t as fit as she had been, having not trained with Illya for some time, and her old injury wasn’t helping. When Illya had supported some of her weight, it hadn’t been too painful, but now...

 

Gaby shook her head, pushing away her from thoughts of him, and sprinted further into the darkness, tears pricking her eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the thug decided to stand his ground, which would only make the situation worse.

Throwing a glance backwards as some shouts pierced the night, Gaby saw Illya bearing down upon her, and she turned the corner and ran until her lungs were threatening to burst and she tackled the thug, almost crying out as her leg took a hit.

Her instincts took over as she tried to hold the man down, pinning him and wrestling the gun from his grasp as he yelled in her face, “Cagna!”

She almost tumbled to the ground as he shoved at her but she punched him, her ring surely drawing blood, and pulled off one of her shoes to smash it across his face, again and again. 

And Illya was there, like he always was, staring so intensely at her as he held the gun at the man’s head, and she found the note, struggling to stand up and read it.

Only some words she recognised, but it was enough - “Evidence.”

“I said no, and now you’re hurt.”

She felt herself flinch at his words, but it didn’t matter as she replied, “But now we have the evidence Waverly wanted.”

Gaby craned her neck to look up at the Russian and he stared down at her, both of them suspended in time, and he reached out, smoothing a hand over her hair. His touch was so gentle, and a part of Gaby called for her to lean into it and close her eyes, to breathe him in and feel safe.

But she didn’t, and he coughed and muttered, “Should get back to Cowboy.”

Gaby shook herself and took the thug’s gun, and after nodding at Illya, crept through the garden, hiding in the shadows from the guests and guards, leading the way.

 

They managed to get to their getaway car undetected and Gaby could have thanked god when she saw Solo leaning casually against the boot, clothes immaculate and expression unsurprised at the state of them both and the thug over Illya's shoulder.

“You two took your time,” he said lightly, and came forwards to offer Gaby his arm and asked, “Want to drive?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say yes, but her leg ached and it seemed like her lungs weren’t getting enough air, so instead she shook her head, and Solo helped her into the backseat and she passed him the precious note.

Once the thug was tied up and locked in the boot, Illya slid into the backseat too and Solo started driving, radioing in what had happened as he sped down the empty roads back to their hotel.

Leaning her head back, Gaby closed her eyes briefly, and felt a pressure being put on her thigh and heard Illya murmuring, “We’ll be there soon, stay awake.”

She blinked her eyes open to see Illya’s crinkled forehead and soft expression, and his hand was close to where her scar was, and a slight smile formed on her lips as she nodded and gazed out of the window at the glowing lights of the city.

His fingers were massaging circles into her worn leg muscles, and she let her stress and frustration fall away - at least until she’d had something to drink.

 

Maneuvering into a side street, Solo twisted round, grinning at them both, and said, “You two go up to the hotel room and rest for a while. I’ll take our friend to Waverly and update him on the situation, as when that note doesn’t make, they’ll know we’re onto them. Rest for now though - no strenuous activity.”

He winked and Gaby heard a low growl come from Illya, which made Solo smirk even more.

 

A few minutes later, they made it to their fancy room, with Illya clutching Gaby to his side as she breathed deeply and tried to ignore the growing pain in her leg, made worse by all the stairs they were forced to climb. 

When a gasp slipped out, Illya practically carried her to the bathroom where he ripped her dress to examine her scar, then moved on to her other injuries, fingers tracing them with such tenderness that Gaby had to move away - before something happened, before she leaned in too close, like all those times in Rome.

 

“Gaby, you need to rest your leg,” he called out as she went to the drinks cabinet and then to the sofa, the first ebbs of annoyance rising as he came and knelt in front of her, too close, the smell of his cologne as intoxicating as the whiskey in her hand.

“I am fine Illya. No need to be a mother hen.”

“You’re in pain, Gaby. You exerted yourself too much.”

That made her anger spark, blood hot in her face as she glared at him - “It was the right call. I am a trained spy too, not a fragile child. You can trust me.”

“I know.”

Gaby could feel his gaze burning into her, and she continued, saying “Then why stop me, Illya? I thought you liked your women strong.”

“I like my woman safe. It’s not me not trusting you. Me being selfish. Not wanting you hurt.”

At his quiet, stilted words, her breath caught slightly in her throat, but she still said, “I know I’ve been on leave, but I can take care of myself.”

Illya lowered his head and said, “I still worry. Always will.”

 

Despite her best efforts, her anger melted away at his soft confession, and in the half-light, Gaby lifted his chin and cradled his face with both her hands, pulling him closer to lean their foreheads together.

Illya placed his calloused hands upon her waist, and Gaby breathed into the space between them, “I worry about you too.” 

Gently, Illya kissed the tear on Gaby’s cheek which had fallen after all the pain and tension of the mission, and then he kissed her forehead too. 

 

And Gaby savoured the moment of peace between them, before Solo returned or Waverly called, and held him close.

**Author's Note:**

> Terrible translations done by google translate (if they're wrong, let me know):
> 
> \- 'Ublyudok' ('Ублюдок') = Bastard  
> \- 'Buonanotte' = Goodnight  
> \- 'Affare' = Deal  
> \- 'Domani' = Tomorrow  
> \- 'Cagna' = Bitch


End file.
